


Pressure Point Addendum

by renecdote



Series: Pressure Point [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Breakfast, Brotherly Bonding, Fluff, Forgiveness, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, emphasis on the comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 02:11:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20958743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renecdote/pseuds/renecdote
Summary: “Are these apology pancakes?” Damian asks, poking the stack with one finger.





	Pressure Point Addendum

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an additional scene prompt game on tumblr.
> 
> Also fills the 'forgiveness' square on my hurt/comfort bingo card.

Todd is in the kitchen when he wakes up. Todd and a stack of blueberry pancakes almost as tall as Damian’s head. Not up to his head, that would be absurd, just from the chin resting on his arms to the top of his sleep-spiked hair. Todd is whistling and it’s annoying, but it doesn’t grate the way every little sound did last night.  


“Are these apology pancakes?” Damian asks, poking the stack with one finger. It wobbles precariously, but does not fall. Just slides a little, the leaning tower of Pisa recreated on the pale blue dinner plate. 

“Apology—? Hey, stop that.” Todd smacks his hand with the spatula before Damian can poke the pancakes again. “No, they are not apology pancakes., they’re _brunch_. Stop—didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with your food?”

Damian sits up straighter. His muscles feel achy, the kind of stiff that locks everything up after a long sleep in an uncomfortable position. 

“Richard says brunch requires mimosas,” he says. And when Todd turns around to gape, he reaches out and pokes the stack of pancakes again. Pisa leans a bit further. 

Todd snatches the plate, ceramic clattering against granite as he sets it down out of reach. “Okay, first of all, other people need to eat these too. Second, you’re like—” some complicated gesture with his hand, meant to convey that Damian is either short or an infant or both “—you shouldn’t even know what a mimosa is, let alone that it belongs with brunch. _Honestly_.”

The way he says honestly is the same way Pennyworth says _really, sir_ when father is in trouble. Damian smirks. 

“Richard also says that brunch requires hash browns. Are you going to make hash browns?” Damian kicks his feet a little, under the table where Todd can’t see. “I would accept apology hash browns, if they were as good as Pennyworth’s.”

Todd grumbles about manipulative little gremlins, but he turns around and digs potatoes out of their box in the pantry. “If you want these, you can help,” he says, throwing an apron at Damian. “Wash your hands and put that on, Alfred will kill me if you get flour all over your pyjamas.”

Damian sighs, loud and long-suffering, but puts the apron on. It’s too long and he has to pull the strings around to his front to tie them, but it is covered in dogs that looks a little like Titus if he squints. Damian doesn’t let Todd see how pleased he is by that. 

“They’re not really apology hash browns if I have to help,” he grumbles, but he starts peeling the potatoes Todd rolls along the counter to him anyway, hiding a grin as he dodges Todd’s spatula. And when everyone else has wandered in and brunch is laid out on the table, he makes a point of stealing Todd’s hash browns while he isn’t looking. 

Neither of them acknowledge the fact that Todd lets him. Apology hash browns indeed.

They’re not quite as good as Pennyworth’s though. Damian makes sure to tell Todd that.


End file.
